


Nights Like These.

by psyleedee



Series: Psyleedee's Tumblr Ficlets. [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Castiel Wears Dean Winchester's Clothes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Cute Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Hugs, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sleeping Together, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27571837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyleedee/pseuds/psyleedee
Summary: Dean used to hate nights.But these days, he's begun to love them.'At last, Dean will end up before his bedroom, the door still shut. But instead of the usual darkness lurking inside, bright, yellow light seeps out from underneath the door. With a smile, Dean pushes the door open, and his eyes will fall upon him, upon his other, bigger miracle, the love of his life, the crux of his existence, his best friend, his confidant, his— his everything. And though these words will crawl in the back of his throat, all he'll be able to say is, "-hey grumpy."'
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Psyleedee's Tumblr Ficlets. [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1475438
Comments: 20
Kudos: 175





	Nights Like These.

**Author's Note:**

> have some fluff, my lovelies

Nights.

Dean used to hate nights.

The silence. The pitch-black darkness. The emptiness. The hollow, empty sunken feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Dean hated each second spent in companionship of no one but himself.

The long walk to his bedroom, leading from the narrow passageway of the bunker which seemed to cave in with every passing second, the ear-stinging creak of his door as it swung open to reveal the dark, bare room, where nothing but Dean's own shadow greeted him. Dean would walk in, switch on the dimmest light, push of his boots and slump back down on the bed, unbothered about a blanket or a pillow, until sleep lulled him away.

But then there would be the nightmares.

Roaring flames of hell. The pungent odours of rotting flesh in purgatory. The torture. The blood. The screams. The pleas. The victims they couldn't save. And... Castiel.

He would roll around in bed, trying to hold on, tying to fight, trying to defend himself, and yet each nightmare ended the same way— with Dean waking up in a cold sweat, heart pounding in his chest, and a flurry of grotesque images in his mind. Once the nightmare had been done and over with, Dean wouldn't find it in himself to be able to sleep again. So he would grab a book, maybe his laptop, and he'd wile away his time until the first ray of the morning sun came. (That was a lie. He would simply glance at his phone for the time. The bunker had no windows.)

But these days.

Things have changed.

Nights.

Dean has begun to love nights.

These days, the passageways aren't as narrow anymore, and they don't seem to cave in on Dean, especially when he's walking, laughing with Miracle in his arms, running his fingers through the golden fun as Miracle continues to lick around his face. This time, the passageways light up with the sounds of ' _who's a good boy? That's right, it's you, isn't it? Do good boys lick their daddy's faces? Eh, I don't think so. You sleepy, bub? We're gonna' get some sleep, 'kay? And I'll give you some bacon tomorrow for breakfast. Don't tell your other daddy though, he'll shout at me for giving you anything that isn't dog food. But that's just 'cause he loves you so much. We both do. Who doesn't love a good boy?'_

Laughter will echo through the passageway.

At last, Dean will end up before his bedroom, the door still shut. But instead of the usual darkness lurking inside, bright, yellow light seeps out from underneath the door. With a smile, Dean pushes the door open, and his eyes will fall upon him, upon his other, bigger _miracle_ , the love of his life, the crux of his existence, his best friend, his confidant, his— his everything. And though these words will crawl in the back of his throat, all he'll be able to say is, "-hey grumpy."

And then, in reply to this, a deep, sleep-soaked baritone voice will rise up.

"I am not grumpy. I'm just sleepy right now."

Dean will smile, as he always does at the sight of Castiel, and lets Miracle on the ground. The dog (biased towards Castiel, Dean believes) jumps into Castiel's arms without a single ounce of hesitation, awoo-ing, purring, licking his face, wagging his tail, smothering Castiel with affection. Dean watches them as the door shuts behind him, how Castiel laughs, the beautiful sound etching itself into his mind over and over again, the sight of Castiel brushing Miracle's light fur before setting him down for a belly rub. Castiel, in nothing but Dean's t-shirt, Dean's boxers and a messy, bedhead, with warmth and affection spilling from each inch of his being.

Eventually, Miracle licks Castiel's face for the final time, before hopping off the bed and curling up at the corner of the room on his own, small purple bed. Castiel watches Miracle, Dean watches Cas.

"Cas."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Castiel turns to Dean, a beaming smile on his face as he regards Dean, "-I love you too."

Dean doesn't wait any longer, walks overs to where Castiel is sitting at the edge of the bed, and simply falls into his arms.

Cas smells like Dean's shampoo. Like detergent. Like Miracle. Like home.

With his head against Castiel's chest, Dean wriggles his arms under and around Cas's waist, earning himself a few breathy protests of 'stop, you're tickling me', before both men calm down at last.

It must be somewhere around midnight.

But Dean doesn't care. As long as he has his family, his love, his happiness next to him.

Thick, long fingers run through his hair, rubbing behind his ear and massaging his nape, before settling between his shoulder blades.

"Dean."

"Mh."

"Roll over so we can sleep better."

"No."

"Dean."

"No. S'comfy."

"Deeeaannn—"

Dean laughs and pulls himself up, dragging Castiel with him as he turns them over on the bed until they're both laying on their sides. In the silence, he reaches out for Castiel's warmth, and at once, buries himself in the crook of Castiel's neck, breathing in the plain scent of soap.

"Love you," he mumbles, gripping Castiel tightly in his arms, tight enough that nothing could take him away from Dean.

"I love you too, Dean. Now will you switch the lights off?"

Dean reaches behind him to flip the light switch, and instantly, drenches the room in utter darkness.

But the warmth never leaves.

His eyes stay wide open for the first few seconds. Watching. Vigilant.

But the soft heaving of Castiel's chest, the faint snores, the light rumbles— somehow, they lull him to sleep as well.

And in the night, Dean feels peace. In Castiel's arms, he feels content.

Nights.

Dean used to hate nights.

Now, he wonders, they're not that bad. 

**Author's Note:**

> can't wait for the final ep. if cas doesn't come back, im walking over to the USA with a fucking katana, bitch. imma slice some bitches.


End file.
